


vigil

by pleurer



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 04:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20901944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/pseuds/pleurer
Summary: He stands there, in front of the pile of rubble that used to be the cathedral, standing vigil over something that has ceased to exist.





	vigil

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/391363.html?thread=2301697219#cmt2301697219).

He stands there, in front of the pile of rubble that used to be the cathedral, standing vigil over something that has ceased to exist. He doesn’t move. Night falls, and he remains in his spot, still as a statue, like a fifth Saint. The irony doesn’t escape you.

You’re scared to approach him, at first, recalling the way he’d reacted when you first reunited. You’d awoken from a five-year slumber, and he’d been the only thing on your mind, and seeing him had confirmed the worst of your fears. He was alive— but barely so. He thought you were a hallucination. The earnest, hopeful eyes who sought your guidance, who promised to follow you into the dark, were long gone. Instead, he fixed you with a look as cold as ice, as if you were nothing but an obstacle. It hurts. It hurts so much you don’t dare to look at him. 

But then it becomes evident that he hasn’t eaten in a long time. And even more so than the commander of an army the King has forsaken— you are still his professor. You still remember all of his favourite foods— no matter that he couldn’t taste them, the glowing memory of childhood and the presence of his friends at the table was enough to make his eyes light up with joy.

So you bring him a meal. Your cooking skills are rusty, but quite acceptable, for someone who’s been dead for five years. He can’t taste the difference anyway. 

You set the plate down in front of him. He doesn’t react.

“You haven’t eaten,” you say softly. 

“It is none of your business,” he says curtly. Still, you see him eyeing the food. And then he looks at you. No appreciation, no emotion other than confusion. “There is no need to waste your time preparing food for someone who will not eat it.” 

You look up at him— he’s grown even taller, now— and see the first hint of emotion in his eyes. The anger is painfully familiar. When your father died, he was the one who put you back together. The one who dragged you to the dining hall and reminded you what it was like to eat with everyone. Reminded you that, when things were dire, there were still reasons to go on living.

He shouldered your grief, then. Took it away when you thought nothing else could. It hurts that you cannot do the same for him. But at the very least, you can share his pain.

Wordlessly, you sit down on the floor next to him. 

“What are you doing?”

“I won’t let you be alone,” you say. 

He looks ready to protest, but you are surprised when he doesn’t speak at all. There the two of you sit, in silence, a facsimile of who you used to be. The room is empty and dark. The moonlight cuts a slice across his pale face, so that his blue eye glints in the light, while the rest is cast in shadow. You wonder how he lost his eye, but now is not the time to ask. You sit there, on his right side, guarding him against what he cannot see, and wishing you could do the same for the restless demons in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many feelings for these two. ;_; <3


End file.
